Trust
by Midgitte
Summary: After Ororo is raped, she's left bitter and frightened of the world. It's up to Logan to help her learn to trust...and love...once again. RoLo
1. Things that go Bump in the Night

She struggled beneath the satin sheet, vainly attempting to find a cool spot on her pillow or mattress. Unfortunately, her body heat had permeated every place of even relative coolness as she tossed and turned. She could feel the sweat marching down her back and chest in beads, and her white silk nightgown clung to her body wetly and uncomfortably.

Turning onto her side and reading her digital bedside clock, which told her that it was one o'clock in the morning and she had only gotten two hours of sleep, Ororo Munroe sighed and tossed the single sheet covering her away. Before retiring for the night, she had tried to summon a breeze to blow through her room and keep her cool, and it had worked for a short while. Not only did it keep her from sweating, but the motion and sound of it had also lulled her into slumber. The problem with the breeze was that she couldn't focus on keeping it up while in an unconscious state, and it had soon died, leaving her to awaken sticky and sleek with perspiration.

She rose from her bed, silently cursing circumstances beyond her control. She cursed the summer heat, air conditioning systems that broke down and left the entire mansion feeling like a furnace, repair companies that stalled in sending people out to fix said broken air conditioning systems, and students who whined about the heat and made her exhaust all of her energy in keeping a constant breeze blowing through the open windows so that nobody would pass out. Never mind the fact that she herself had almost lost consciousness a day ago after running on three hours of sleep the previous night and maintaining a steady breeze for four. That was when Logan had demanded that she stop trying to be everyone's personal fan and get some sleep.

"Easier said than done, Logan," she sighed, resolving to go down to the kitchen and get a cup of ice water, "Easier said than done."

Because Ororo expected that several of the students or other teachers might have the same idea as she, or that she might find them running up the electric bill by sitting in front of the open refrigerators, she slipped a long white, terry-cloth robe over her slightly revealing nightgown, turned on her overhead light, and checked her full-length mirror to make sure that her short, platinum hair wasn't _too_ rumpled. As she walked down the hallway towards the stairs, she smiled as she thought of the spectacle she might have made if she hadn't taken these precautions. Prim, polished Headmistress Munroe in a white silk nightie with a plunging neckline and hair as tussled as the Wolverine's on a bad day.

Upon approaching the kitchen, she was glad when her ears were met with absolute silence, and she quietly calmly and quietly rejoiced when she found the room empty. Not only was she not exactly keen on the idea of students or fellow instructors seeing her in such a state of undress, but she also didn't want to be greeted with and have to make up answers for questions about when the air conditioning was going to be fixed. "Never!" the sleep-deprived and irritated headmistress had been tempted to yell at a group of girls who approached her about the matter yesterday.

After getting a glass from one of the cabinets and crossing to the fridge, she pressed the button on the door for crushed ice, and, to her ears, the sound of the tiny chunks of ice hitting the glass was goddess-sent. Once she got her water, she sat down on one of the barstools at the island in the middle of the kitchen, drinking and listening to the small night-sounds made by the mansion that Charles Xavier had built for his students.

"Charles…" her tired mind mused, "I should go to his grave tomorrow. It's been almost a week; he probably needs fresh flowers. Scott and Jean, too." She knew that the students, most of whom visited the graves regularly, kept all three of the dearly departed well-stocked with fresh blossoms, but, for Ororo, visiting the graves and laying flowers upon each had become a ritual. The superstitious African in her felt that if she kept their spirits pleased by leaving offerings on the graves, then they would stay with her and continue to guide her, to give her the strength to live from day to day. Perhaps it was all foolishness, but she needed to believe in and hold onto it.

Ororo leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes as she became one with the chirping of the crickets outside. Her mind whirled with fatigue, and soon she was asleep where she sat, the glass of water precariously balanced in her left hand. Only ten minutes of blissful slumber had passed, however, when she was startled awake by a sound which no creature of the night could have made. The glass slipped from her hand and crashed upon the floor, shattering into pieces amongst a cold puddle of water and melting ice as Ororo snapped to attention, sitting up in her chair and listening intently.

Footsteps echoed along the wooden floor of the hallway. Soft and cautious, they probably would have gone unnoticed by the weather witch if her mind had not been frightened into being alert. She knew that there was an intruder in the mansion, and that she should flee, to Logan's room and those of the other mutant teachers who had stayed in the school for the summer, but she was paralyzed with fear. She heard the unmistakable sound of sniffing, like a hound on the trail, and it became apparent to her that the intruder had caught her scent and was coming for her.

She leapt from her chair with such force that it fell over, banging against the floor loudly. Ororo's hand flew to her chest, as though she could still the beating of her heart. Against her will, a gasp erupted from her throat as a tall, dark shadow appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. The intruder emitted a low growl, full of menace, and his bright eyes, pupils slitted, glowed orange in the pitch black of the room.

Before she could think, the animalistic usurper sprang across the room, pouncing on her and knocking her onto her back on the floor. Her impulses took over, and her eyes began to go white as she prepared to send an electric jolt through the cat-like man on top her, but, before she could act upon her terror, she was shocked by a sharp pinprick of pain in her arm, and she cried out as she felt something traveling through her veins, crippling her power, making it impossible for her to fight no matter how she struggled. The intruder's laugh was low, mocking.

"Let's see you try to fight me now, weather witch!" he growled into her ear. Ororo felt something sharp caress the skin of her side, and she gasped as she realized that her attacker was using his long, sharp claws to cut away what little clothing she wore. Before long, she felt herself bare, exposed, and helpless before him.

"No…oh, Goddess, no," she moaned, and then felt pain cut through her cheek as he slapped her with his claws unsheathed, drawing blood from the scratches that he made on her face.

"Shut up!" he growled. Ororo yelped, and then, in a last attempt to get some sort of help, she let out a scream, piercing the air with her fear.

"I said shut up!" the assailant yelled, delivering another blow, this time to her neck. She squealed as the pain rippled through her body, and tears sprang to her eyes.

"That's right, bitch, cry. Cry like a fucking little girl" the cat-like man above her laughed as he pressed his nude body against hers. She felt this breath hot upon her breast and then she cried out as his teeth dug into the sensitive skin there. Involuntarily, she screamed again, but this was only met with claws racking down her stomach, slitting her skin and spilling her blood.

"Oh, Goddess…" she whimpered.

"Your god ain't gonna help you," the attacker growled as he pressed himself against her most private area, making her sob in agonized terror as he invaded her.


	2. Stay

**Author's Note: I was both overwhelmed and pleased with all of the reviews that I got on the first chapter of this story! Exactly the kind of response that I love to see! Thank you so much. Hope that you all like and respond to this chapter. **

xXx

Logan growled as he punched the fan that he'd plugged into one of the electrical sockets of his bedroom. In reality, he really hadn't expected to get much cool air out of it, but it still annoyed him that his room felt like a damned oven and he hadn't been able to sleep because of the heat. Fatigue was starting to take its toll on him, making him irritable and edgy.

He sunk into his easy chair and crossed his arms over his chest. He craved a cigar, but didn't want anything that would increase the heat either in his room or in his body.

"Maybe I should go down to the kitchen and get a cold beer," he said to himself, "That is, if there aren't a thousand kids down there sitting in front of the fridge like last night."

Logan almost felt like laughing when he remembered the previous night, Storm in her terry cloth robe, with her hair all messed up, shooing about a dozen students out of the kitchen and then walking through it, irritably shutting the door to each of the three refrigerators and muttering to herself.

He crossed the room to his bed, and was just about to pick up the wife beater and pajama pants that he'd thrown on top of his disheveled covers in a fit of rage, when a strange smell pervaded his nostrils. Logan tilted his head as he inhaled and examined it. The odor was tangy, animalistic, and he smelt anger and passion along with it. And then, below it, he caught a scent that was all too familiar to him, that soft vanilla and sandalwood, tarnished by fear and pain.

"Storm…" he whispered. It was obvious to him that she was in trouble, and so he hastily pulled on his pants and shirt, and ran from his room, following the two mingling scents through the mansion. As he approached the kitchen, he heard panicked sobs and beastly grunts, and his blood began to boil with rage as a soft cry reached his ears.

Logan ran into the kitchen. When he clicked on the light, he was startled by what he saw. Storm was just a twisted mass of bleeding limbs and crimson-streaked platinum hair, sobbing beneath a huge, black expanse of fur. The attacker stopped his violation of the weather goddess when the light flooded the room, turning his livid orange eyes upon the source, the feral mutant who stood in the doorway; claws unsheathed and anger blazing on his face.

"What the fuck is going on here?" Logan asked, raising his claws. The panther-like mutant crawled off of Storm, standing nearly seven feet tall when he raised himself up, rearing at Logan. With a growl, the cat-man leapt at the other mutant, who jumped at him, nailing him right in the stomach with tearing claws of pure adamantium. The bigger of the two animalistic mutants yelped and staggered back, and the other man used this moment of weakness to spring at him once again, using his claws to rake across the panther's neck, drawing blood and making him choke as he tried to breathe.

"You fucked around with the wrong guy, bub," Logan said, impaling the other man on his claws, lifting the huge body above his head, and then hurling it towards the window, which shattered as the black mutant crashed through it, landing with a thud against the ground outside. With a metallic _snickt_, Logan sheathed his claws, turning his head to the soft sound of weeping coming from the corner of the room. The victim had curled herself into a ball of red-streaked flesh, burying her face in her hands as she cried.

"Storm?" Logan called out to her, his voice softening and the rage leaving his eyes.

"Logan?" she asked weakly, raising her head to look at him.

"Oh, God, Storm," he gasped at the sight of the long, deep scratches on her face. Kneeling down by her side, he reached a hand out to touch her, but she whimpered and pulled away.

"Don't touch me!" she cried, "Don't touch me."

"I'm sorry, Storm," whispered Logan, "My god, what did he do to you?" He surveyed her body, noticing that she was completely nude, scratched up and bleeding heavily. Then he looked around the room, only to see her white robe and torn white nightie lying in shreds on the floor.

"Oh jeez…" said Logan, "he didn't?" Ororo nodded and began to sob once again.

"Storm, we have to get you to the medical wing. You're all torn up; you need someone to look at you," he said, holding out his hand, which she recoiled from.

"No," she whispered, "I just want to go to my room and…take a shower. I have to wash him off of me, Logan."

"I understand, Storm, but you're seriously hurt. I'm taking you to the medical wing first. Now, can you stand up and walk, or am I gonna have to carry you?" he inquired. She shuddered at the thought of his hands on her bare skin, even if he was just trying to help. Pressing her palms flat on the floor, she tried to push herself up, but she was weak, drained, and she crumpled back against the cabinets upon which she'd been leaning.

"I'm gonna have to pick you up, darlin'," Logan informed her, "I'm sorry, but you're bleeding everywhere; you need someone to look at you." Ororo nodded weakly and closed her eyes as he descended upon her, lifting her into his arms and cradling her against his chest. Once again, he became aware of the fact that she was totally bare, and tried to place his hands so that he wasn't touching her anywhere inappropriate.

She was limp in his arms, like a rag doll, and feather-light, so that it was no trouble at all to get her to the medical wing and place her in one of the beds in the infirmary, making sure to pull the white blanket over her to cover her nudity. Ororo simply closed her eyes, then opened them and stared at the ceiling, saying nothing to him. She shivered slightly from the temperature in the room, and Logan retrieved another blanket to put over her, since her blood was rapidly staining the first one anyway.

"I'll come back to check on you, I promise," he whispered to her. For the first time all night, her eyes, with silent gratitude swimming beneath sorrow and pain, met his, and she nodded. Logan hurried from the room to find the (thankfully, female) doctor who stayed on call during the night-time and early morning hours, and once he'd explained the situation and directed her to the infirmary, he left to clean up the mess in the kitchen.

He took care of the body first. When he got back to where he'd thrown the panther-mutant, he found instead of man who looked to be about thirty years old, much shorter and less muscular than he'd been in his panther form, with a mop of jet-black hair. Logan searched the face for any sign that he recognized the man, but found none.

"Not that it matters, anyway," he said to himself, "Asshole's fucking dead, the way he _belongs_." Taking out his claws to aid him, Logan hefted the body and, having little time and a job still to be done in the kitchen; he went out to the garden shed and grabbed two heavy sandbags. Once he reached the usually placid lake that lay at the very edge of the school grounds, he tied the bags to each of the corpse's feet and threw it in. As the body sank to the bottom, Logan said a silent prayer that no one would come down to the lake until he got a chance to dig a hole and throw the dead man in.

After taking care of this nasty business, Logan went to clean the kitchen, throwing Storm's torn nightgown and robe into the garbage and cursing to himself as he wiped the blood from the floor and counters. He wished that he could have stayed in the medical wing, just to be close to Storm in case there was anything that he could possibly do for her, but the kitchen was badly in need of a scrub-down. It wouldn't do to have any of the students wandering in for an early-morning snack or glass of water and seeing a pile of tattered clothes and pools of blood on the floor.

Once he finished with the kitchen, Logan disposed of the rag that he'd used to clean and hurried back to the medical wing. He found Storm sitting up on the same bed that he'd left her in, wearing a white hospital-type gown and chewing on her lower lip as the doctor's practiced and gentle hands wrapped her wrist in gauze.

"Is she OK?" he asked as he approached the bed. The doctor looked away from her work only briefly, but Storm's head turned, and she didn't take her eyes away from Logan as he came nearer to her.

"That depends on your definition of OK," replied the doctor, "Physically, her wounds will heal relatively quickly. Emotionally…" she trailed off and went back to her work. Storm looked away, saying nothing. When the doctor was finished, she stood up and handed two rolls of gauze and other supplies to Logan.

"I guess you could say it was pointless to wrap her up right now, since she's told me that she's only going to take a shower once she gets to her room, but I had to stop the bleeding. Go to her room with her, make sure she waits until the bleeding's stopped before she bathes, and, once she's done, help her to re-wrap herself. It's important that the wounds stay covered," the doctor advised him. He nodded and went to stand in front of Storm.

"Are you gonna be able to walk back to your room, or do ya need me to carry you again, darlin'?" he asked.

"I can walk," she whispered, "just help me off of the bed." He nodded and took her by the arms, helping her to the floor. When he let go of her; however, her legs buckled beneath her, and he had to grab her to keep her from falling.

"Damn it," she cursed softly, "I guess the…the sedative he used on me is still…"

"He drugged you, Storm?" Logan asked, anger rising up in him once more. She nodded.

"I told the doctor. She said not to worry about it; that it'll wear off," she said.

"I think it'll be easier if I carry you," he said.

"I think you're right," she admitted regretfully, holding her arms out to wrap around his neck once he had her off of the ground.

xXx

Logan sat on the chaise lounge that Ororo kept in her room right next to her bookcase. Idly, he pulled books off of the shelves, read two or three pages, and then replaced them, only to grab another book and repeat the action. He waited in nervous contemplation for Storm to finish her shower, not knowing what he was going to say to or do for her once she emerged from the bathroom.

Words had come easily enough when he was panicked; concerned for her safety, but what does one say in the quiet, calm moments to someone who's just had their dignity stolen from them? How does one comfort a woman who's been violated in the worst way possible? Would she even accept the consolation he may try to give her, or would she simply force him from the room and barricade herself inside, refusing to speak to anyone? Somehow that didn't seem like Storm; Logan couldn't picture her ever being so weak, but how knew how she would react? Surely he did not.

He looked up when he heard the door to the bathroom open, and, to his utter surprise, Storm walked out of the bathroom totally nude. She gasped when she saw that he was still in the room, and took a step back into the bathroom, attempting to cover her most private places. Logan closed his eyes and turned towards the wall.

"I'm sorry," he said, "It's OK now; I'm not looking."

"No," she replied, "I didn't expect you to still be here. It's all right. You may as well open your eyes; it's not like you've never seen me like this before."

"Yeah, but I wasn't payin' attention to details earlier," Logan told her.

"No matter. I know that you've seen me. I've felt your eyes on me, Logan, in the evenings when I fly in the nude," she pointed out, stepping into the bedroom. In shock, he opened his eyes and turned around.

"Well…umm…" he stammered, "only when I…happened to be outside." She gave him a weak smile and walked towards her dresser, opening the top drawer and pulling out a pair of black lace panties. As she walked by, Logan found himself watching, mesmerized by the sway of her hips and the perfection of her breasts and behind…

"Stop it, bub," he scolded himself, "Jeez, the woman was raped not an hour and a half ago and you're doin' nothing but starin' at her stuff, asshole."

"In a way, I'm glad that you stayed," Storm said, shaking him from his reverie, "I think you're the only one whose presence I find to be a comfort right now."

"Me?" he asked, taken aback.

"Yes," she said, pulling a black nightie over her head and sitting down on her bed, "What would…he have done to me…if you hadn't…?"

"Don't think about that, Storm," he said, moving towards her, "thoughts like that aren't gonna do you any good."

"I know, but I can't help it, Logan. You saved me. You're the only one who knows, who understands," she replied.

"Yeah. Well, I…uhh…I just stayed here so that I could help you put yer bandages on. If you need help, that is," he told her, taking the gauze and other dressings that the doctor had given him off of her nightstand. She nodded, and pulled her nightie back off, exposing the wounds that had been ripped down her sides and stomach, and the bite marks on her left breast.

"Oh, jeez, Storm. I'm sorry, darlin'," Logan breathed, taking in the entirety of what had been done to her for the first time.

"Why?" she asked, "It's not your fault; you didn't do it."

"No, I meant…I'm sorry this happened to ya, that you've gotta go through this." She nodded and bit her lip, fighting back tears, as he bandaged her up. When he was through, he stood up and handed her nightie to her. She took it gratefully and slid it back over her head.

"What am I going to do until this heals, Logan?" she asked, holding her hand out to him. He took it and held it gingerly between both of his. He knew that she was reaching out for the comfortable touch of someone who meant her no harm, but he didn't know how to react. "How am I going to explain this to the students?"

"I don't know, Storm," he said, "maybe you could just…stay where they can't see ya, at least until the scratches on your face and neck heal. I can bring yer food and stuff to you, and…just tell the kids that you're sick or something."

"I guess that'll be the only plan that's going to work," she said, hot tears spilling over onto her cheeks. She pulled her sheets up around her, lying against her pillow and sobbing into it.

"Is…umm…is there anything else that I can do for ya, Storm?" he asked, "Anything else ya need?"

"Yeah," she whispered, "Stay with me tonight, Logan. I don't know where you'll sleep, but just…stay. I want to fall asleep knowing that you're here…just in case."

"Yeah. Yeah, sure, I can do that. I'll sleep on your little…sofa…thing," he replied, indicating the chaise. Through her tears, she smiled just a bit.

"Thank you," she whispered, so softly that he didn't hear.


	3. Sleep

xXx

Logan made his way up the stairs with a cling-wrap-covered plate of food in one hand and a thick stack of "get well" cards in the other. When he reached the door to Storm's office, he shifted the cards and knocked, but got no response, so he knocked again, more insistently. Once again, nothing, so, with an exasperated sigh, he grabbed the door handle, and found that it was unlocked, so he let himself in.

Immediately he was greeted by the sound of tiny sobs and whimpers. He looked over to where the sounds of sorrow were originating, only to see Storm leaning on her desk face-down with her head buried in her arms, crying and moaning pitifully. After setting the food and cards down on an end-table, he walked over and said her name in a soft, gentle tone. She looked up; her blue eyes misted over, and burst into fresh tears as soon as she saw Logan standing before her.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed, attempting todry her eyes, "I'm just tired; I haven't been sleeping and…"

"Why haven't you slept, Storm?" he asked in concern, coming around to kneel before her desk chair.

"I have…I have dreams, Logan," she told him, shivering in revulsion and sorrow, "I see his eyes, those orange cat-eyes, every night when I lay in bed, and I feel him on me, all over me." Once again, she began to cry and shake. Logan took both of her hands in his and pulled her up from the chair and into his arms. In desperation and out of a need for comfort, she threw her arms around him, pressing herself to his body, and weeping into his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Storm," he whispered to her, stroking her back, "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," she said, "You've been wonderful. I've never seen you so gentle with anyone."

"I feel responsible for you now, Storm. Ever since I found you…" he began, but she cut him off.

"Saved me," she corrected, "You saved me."

"Yeah. Ever since then, I feel like I need to help you through this," he finished.

"Thank you. I don't know if I ever really thanked you for what you did that night, what you've been doing for me," she told him.

"You don't have to. All I want is everything all right again," he replied.

"I know. I'm trying; I really…as hard as I can, I'm trying," she said, stepping away from him.

"Yeah, I know," he let go of her, and then strode over to the table where he'd abandoned his cargo.

"I brought you some stuff from dinner," he held the plate out to her, but she shook her head.

"I'm not hungry," she stated.

"Did you eat lunch?" asked Logan. Storm shook her head.

"Then you're going to eat this. You need to eat," he uncovered the plate, took a fork out of the pocket of his shirt, and set it in front of her, watching carefully as she took a few bites.

"Oh, and hey, when I told the kids that you were sick, they all got get-well cards for ya," he said, grabbing the cards and setting them in front of her, "Some of 'em are even home-made."

"Oh, Goddess," said Storm, setting her plate aside to open and read one card after another, "these are all so sweet."

"Yeah. It's obvious the kids love ya, Storm," Logan said. She nodded.

"Sometimes I worry that I don't do an adequate job as headmistress," she admitted, "I always think of the way that Charles would have done things, and what big shoes I have to fill, and I think that I'm not doing it right, or as well as I should. At times, I wonder why all of these children like me as much as they do."

"They like ya because they know that you care about them. After Chuck died, you could have turned your back on all this, closed the school and sent everyone home, but you didn't. You didn't do it because you want what's best for all of these kids, just like Chuck did, and you care what happens to them. They realize that, and I know they appreciate it," replied Logan.

"You love the children, too," Storm said, catching him off-guard.

"What?" he asked.

"You don't leave anymore," she replied, "When you first came here, you would always leave, for weeks at a time. We wouldn't know where you were, when or even if you were coming back. But you always did. You've stopped that now, you've stuck around, even took on all of the training classes that Scott left behind. You wouldn't have done that if you didn't also care about the students."

"Maybe you're right," he said, "Or maybe I always came back because I had no nowhere else to go, but just didn't want to admit it then. Maybe I finally realized that it's pointless to try and find a place for myself anywhere else."

"Maybe," she said, giving him the first smile that he'd seen from her in days, but that was soon interrupted by a yawn.

"I'm so tired, Logan. Can you do me a favor?" she asked.

"Sure," he replied, "What is it?" She crossed over to the sofa and stretched out, but left just enough room for someone else to sit.

"Stay here while I take a nap. I never seem to have nightmares when you're with me."

Logan nodded and joined her on the sofa. To his surprise, she rested her head in his lap and turned onto her side, her face level with his crotch. He tried not to think about that as he reached out to stroke her hair and shoulders, attempting to soothe her into sleep. The last thing that Storm needed at this point was to open her eyes and find his soldier standing at attention. It didn't take long for her to fall into slumber, leaving Logan wide-eyed, and thinking about what she'd said, her theory on the reason that he stayed at the mansion.

"You love the children, too," she'd told him.

"I guess I do," he thought, but then something else occurred to him, something that caught him completely unawares, and made him glance down at the sleeping woman in his lap and look at her in a new light, "Or maybe…there's someone else in this mansion that I love."


	4. In the Garden

xXx

Ororo awoke to find herself immersed in almost complete darkness. The silver moonbeams streaming in from the window illuminated the room only slightly. She lifted her head, and was surprised to feel something soft and warm beneath her. Cautiously, she brought her hand up to feel the thing under her, and was greeted by the rough texture of denim, and then the softer touch of cotton as she moved her hand up. Still dazed from her semi-conscious state, she moved her hand up farther, under the cotton to the source of the heat, and felt soft skin there. Then, her hand touched something else, something that felt thick, and furry.

Her mind jumped back to the events of almost a month ago, and she gasped and sprang away from the body that lay beneath hers, landing on her behind on the carpeted floor. In the darkness, she heard a grunt and then the rustling of fabric as the other person sat up on the sofa.

"Storm?" he asked, through his own half-asleep haze, "You OK, darlin'?" The only answer he got was the sound of heavy breathing, as she tried to catch her breath.

"Yes," she breathed, "I'm fine, Logan." Her head was still spinning with the realization that she had just felt him up as she crossed the room to click on her desk-top lamp, flooding the room with soft, yellow light.

"How'd ya sleep?" Logan inquired, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

"Better than I have in days. No nightmares; I don't even think that I dreamed at all. I was simply…out from the minute I closed my eyes," she said.

"Yeah, you pretty much were," he told her, "I guess I was more tired than I thought. I stayed up almost all last night."

"Why?" asked Storm, her question catching Logan off-guard.

"Oh…umm…I…" he stammered before finding a good excuse, "I got so used to sleeping in the heat that when they fixed the air conditioner it was just too damn cold in my room." She chuckled, and Logan gave her a dazed smile. He'd be god-damned if he was going to tell Storm that the real reason for his sleepless night was that he'd been burying the water-logged corpse of her attacker. Somehow, he didn't think that it would ease her mind at all to hear something like that.

A comfortable silence lingered around them for a few more minutes as Storm worked to straighten out the papers on her desk and Logan smoothed the wrinkles from his clothes. The chimes of a grandfather clock rang throughout the house, making both of them jump, and provoking a gasp from the weather witch. The clock struck twice and was then silent.

"Oh, Goddess," Storm giggled lightly at her own shock, and also Logan's.

"Some big, bad superheroes we are, huh?" he asked playfully, managing to get another smile from her, "Damn, it's two in the morning. We slept for almost seven hours."

"Yes," Storm agreed, and then, more to herself than to Logan, she said, "Everyone's asleep."

"Yeah, I guess they are. Why?" was the response.

"Oh, no special reason," she said, "I was just thinking that if everyone were asleep, then there wouldn't be anyone in the garden."

Logan nodded, "Yeah, I guess that would stand to reason."

"Oh, umm…I'm sorry for letting myself wander off like that," Storm apologized, "I was just…thinking out loud."

"About what?" asked Logan. Storm bit her lip out of concern that what she was about to say would sound silly to him, but then she thought of how understanding he had been about everything else thus far, and opened her mouth to speak.

"I was thinking that I wanted to go down to the garden and take a walk…and maybe do a bit of wind riding," she confided, "I've been too tired and, ultimately, too miserable to even consider leaving my rooms this past month. I've missed flying; it used to be so soothing to me, like therapy."

"Well, I think ya should go down and do it, Storm, if it helps ya out that much," Logan said, but she just shook her head and turned away.

"I don't want to go out there alone. Night-time always makes me nervous now; I don't like to be by myself at night. I hate to be so paranoid, but I'm so scared of what could happen to me," she answered, lowering her head. For a moment, neither of them spoke. It was Logan who broke the silence.

"I could go with ya," he offered.

"You'd really like to?" she asked, "I mean, you're not just offering because you feel that you have to, or you should?"

"No, no, I'd be happy to," he replied, "That is, if ya don't mind me watchin' ya fly." He gave her the naughtiest smile that he dared to, under the circumstances, and she giggled.

"I hate to disappoint you, but I think that I'm going to keep my clothes on this time. I feel better when I'm clothed these days, anyway," she threw back at him.

"Whatever suits you best, darlin'," he said, getting up from the couch and offering her his hand. She took it gratefully and the two exited the office.

xXx

Logan rested his back against the trunk of a tree as he watched Storm fly in circles around the garden, starting off slowly and close to the ground, and then rising higher and higher as she gained more confidence. She flew so high up into the cloud cover that, for a minute, he could not see her. Quickly, however, she sent the clouds away, making the night clear as crystal, so that the stars and the moon could dazzle the earth. She began to fly away from the garden until she was out of Logan's sight, and, when she didn't return within the space of five minutes, his heart began to pound and he felt sweat forming on his chest.

"Whoa, boy," he said to himself, "Don't stress yourself out; she's only been gone a little while. She's coming back."

He came out from under the partial obstruction of the tree leaves and searched the sky for any sign of her, but could find none no matter how he strained to see.

"Come on, Storm, don't do this to me," he found himself thinking.

Suddenly, there was a _whoosh_ing noise coming from behind him, and, before he could even think about turning around, he felt pressure on his back, and was knocked facedown onto the grass.

"What the hell?" he cried out angrily, and was answered by the sound of soft, feminine laughter. He turned around and sat up, beholding the sight of Storm standing over him, her clothes and hair rumpled from flight and a huge, teasing smile on her face.

"I got you!" she laughed, merriment shining in her eyes for the first time in quite a while. Even before her life had been shattered by the sexual attack on her, Storm had been overworked and overstressed. Even a smile from her was a rare thing to see. Logan was glad to see her so happy and playful, but he feigned anger at her.

"Oh, I can't believe this!" he said. In one fluid motion, so fast that Storm couldn't have stopped him if she tried, he reached for the front of her shirt and pulled her onto the ground next to him, using his arms to pin her where she lay.

"Now who's got who?" he asked, bringing his hand down to her neck and gently tickling her. Immediately, she erupted into another fit of giggles.

"No, Logan, no!" she managed through her uncontrollable laughter, "I'm so ticklish…"

"Oh, that was the wrong thing to say to me!" Logan told her, tickling her everywhere that he could. She kicked her legs and flailed her arms, but couldn't shake him from her. He tickled ruthlessly, until he could see that she was running out of breath. He moved his hands away from her and let her go. She lay back against the ground as she attempted to catch her breath.

"Who would've thought that the weather witch would be ticklish?" he asked out loud, "Next time we're in the Danger Room, I think I'm gonna program it so that we fight against a horde of tickling robots. You'd be completely helpless, and I'd have to rescue you." She reached out and gave him a gentle shove.

"Don't you dare!" she cried, turning the tables and pinning him to where he lay. He grabbed both of her arms and rolled her around so that he was the one in control. She smiled up at him and raised herself up from the ground to plant a kiss against his cheek. Her lips were soft, and felt like silk against his rough, stubbled skin. Taken completely aback by her actions, he felt his arms go limp, and she took the opportunity to release herself and stand up.

"Storm," he breathed, turning around to face her. She shook her head and offered her hand to help him up.

"Call me by my name, Logan," she requested, pulling him from the ground, "We've known each other for years now, and I've been using your name since I first met you. Don't you think it's silly to call me by my X-name after all we've been through?"

"Ororo," he said, draping an arm around her. She smiled, nodded, and raised her hand to hold his where it fell on her shoulder. The two of them began to walk forward, neither of them knowing or caring where they might end up.

"Your name's nice, you know. Very unique," he said.

"It's Kenyan. My mother gave it to me. It means 'beautiful' in my native language," she explained. He lowered his mouth to her ear.

"It fits you," he whispered. Ororo felt a blush rising in her cheeks, and she leaned against him as her knees went slightly weak. She looked ahead, and saw that they were heading straight for the small cemetery that she had made for the professor and her two best friends.

"Goddess, Logan," she whispered, "Look at where we are." His eyes had been on her through the entire walk, and he raised his head to observe their surroundings.

"Oh, damn, Ororo. We don't have to go if you don't want to," he said. She shook her head.

"No, it's fine. I like to spend time here. It makes me feel peaceful. Come on," she replied, taking his hand and leading him into the cemetery.

"I wish that I had flowers to bring them," said Ororo as she and Logan took a seat on one of the benches that she'd had placed on the edges of the cemetery. He scanned the three graves and saw that each of them was covered with blooms of every size, shape, and color.

"Looks to me like they have plenty," he assured her.

"I know, but I like to bring them flowers," she confided, "I guess I'm still just superstitious. I feel that their spirits watch over me, and if I stop bringing gifts to them, I think that they'll abandon me."

"They wouldn't abandon you," he said, taking both of her hands in his, "All three of them loved you; they'd never leave you, especially over something as simple as flowers on their graves."

"I used to feel that I needed them, their guidance. I needed to think that they were with me always; I needed to have that belief just to stay sane. Whenever I would have a day that just made me feel that I was breaking down inside, I'd come out here, and talk to all three of them, and it would help me. I could feel them, and that made me feel infinitely better." she told him.

"I hardly ever come here," said Logan, "I don't like to think about them, especially Jean and Chuck."

"I've felt guilty lately, because I haven't come here in such a long time. I still like to carry them with me, but I no longer need them just to survive," she rested her head on his shoulder, "I have you now."

She looked into his face, and their eyes met. On the outside, he was calm and reserved, but still affectionate; gently tucking a flyaway piece of hair behind her ear, but inside, he felt his heart spill over with love. He wanted to speak to her, to tell her how he felt, but, somehow, he felt that now was not the right moment. This was just like a romantic film, and it all felt more perfect than anything in his life had ever been, but the words would not come to him, so he was silent.

He said nothing as she lifted herself up so that her face was level with his, he was quiet as their lips met. Logan returned the kiss eagerly, moving his hands down to clasp her around the waist and pull her closer. She ran her fingers through his hair, and moaned against his lips.

"Ororo," he whispered her name as they broke the kiss, and then he seized her lips once again, taking control, his hands wandering over her arms, her back, her hair. She gasped lightly in panic, but he mistook it for pleasure, and slid his tongue into her mouth. Ororo attempted to keep her mind focused on him, to enjoy his touch and his kiss, but her head spun and kept going back to the events of the night that she was attacked. It wasn't Logan who was touching her; it was the panther-mutant, violating her.

She squealed and pushed him away, retreating to the farthest end of the bench, away from him. Her head fell into her hands and she began to sob and shake. Logan beheld her in shock and concern.

"Ororo?" he asked, "Are you all right?" She shook her head.

"No, I'm not. I'm sorry, Logan. I thought that I could handle it," she wept.

"It's my fault," he said, blaming himself as usual, "I pushed you."

"No, you didn't," she replied, "I started it; I shouldn't have led you on when I wasn't sure that I'd be able to…I'm sorry." She stood up and began to walk away from him.

"Ororo!" he called after her, "Come back, Ororo!" For just a moment, her steps halted, and she considered going to him, falling into his arms and shedding her tears against his strong chest, but she shook her head and resumed her path away from him. He called her name again, and she sobbed loudly and began to run back to the mansion.


	5. LeavingComing Back

**Author's Note: Not a lot of reviews on the last few chapters. I'm not gonna say that I'll stop writing if you don't review, because I've already got the story finished. I'd just like a little more support. Thanks to anyone who reviews after reading this chapter.**

xXx

Her pillow was soaked with tears, and she couldn't stop her weeping. Ororo had been lying in her bed with her face buried in the pillows for nearly an hour. Her head throbbed, her eyes were wet and puffy, and she knew that she needed Logan, but felt that she couldn't go back to him.

"I love him," she finally admitted to herself, "Oh, Goddess, I love him. And I've ruined everything." She rolled over and gazed at the ceiling, watching it spin as she became dizzy and closed her eyes.

xXx

It had been a week since she had talked to him or even glanced in his direction, and it was driving him mad. Logan had no way of knowing that it was Ororo's pride that kept her from running to him, melting into his arms. He assumed that she was angry with him, and he beat himself up for what he'd done every time he thought of it.

The bench in the cemetery, swathed in velvet shadows of moonlight, brought back memories that cut deeper into his heart every time he lingered on them, but still, he couldn't help going there. The memories were ghosts, calling out to him, drawing him into an abyss of pain and regret. Logan entered the darkened cemetery and sat between the tombstones of Scott and Jean.

"I guess you were right about me, Cyke," he said, hurling a flower onto Scott's grave, "I'm an asshole. It's all I've ever been, and all I was meant to be." He tossed a flower at Jean's tombstone.

"What do I know about women, anyway?" asked Logan, "All I really know is how to sleep with 'em; not how to love 'em right. I tried, though, I really tried with her. I wanted it to work, ya know, I wanted to be the one for her. I tried not to fuck it up, but, in the end, I'm just an animal."

He growled and walked away from the cemetery, heading for the garage. Logan heard Scott's old motorcycle calling his name; the desire to hit the open road had never been so great in his life. He knew that he would end up right back here, because, in the end, he needed to be wherever Ororo was, even if he'd never have another chance with her again. The responsibility to protect her was still his and his alone.

All that he wanted now was some time to himself, to try to let go of everything.

xXx

Cries and moans filled Ororo's bedroom as she tossed and turned against her pillows, wrestling with the nightmares that had haunted her for the past week. There he was, his eyes blazing, his black fur rough on her exposed skin. He was everywhere, all over her, inside of her; she couldn't shake him off, couldn't fight.

In slumber, her arms and legs flailed, kicking her bed sheets away from her body. With one final scream, she awoke to the soft, reassuring light of her bedside lamp, and scanned the room to make sure that she was alone. A sob escaped from her throat as she fell back against her pillows and felt tears streaming down her face.

"When will it end?" she spoke to the silence of her bedroom, "How can I make it stop?"

She knew the answer; knew all too well. It was all that she'd been able to think about all week. The solution to all of the Hell that she was going through. Just giving it the slightest thought sent glowing warmth and stinging terror searing through her body all at once.

"I need him," she whispered, the realization dawning on her like an answer from the heavens, "I need him now."

Ororo threw her covers away and left the room, not even caring how she looked at this point. She followed the hallway to his room, and took the knob nervously in her hand. She let out a sigh of relief when she found that it was open and she stepped into the room. Oh, Goddess, it smelt like Logan, like his cologne. She'd never been in his bedroom before, and was amazed at how his presence permeated everything; one would know that it was Logan's room just by setting foot in it. Ororo had never felt more at home.

She said his name, but was met with no reply. She tried again, but still, nothing. Making her way through the room in the darkness, she found a bedside table with a lamp and clicked it on. The room was flooded with light, and Logan was nowhere to be seen.

"Maybe he's down in the kitchen having a beer," she attempted to reason with herself, "Or perhaps he can't sleep and he's just wandering the halls."

Ororo tried to stay calm, but tears flooded her eyes. He was gone, and she knew it. She had driven him away. In a frenzy, she ran to his closet, and sobbed in relief when she found all of his clothes still there. Likewise, when she checked the bathroom, all of his toiletries were in their place. He hadn't left for good; he would be back.

Still, this was no consolation. She wanted, no, _needed_ him now. She needed his arms around her, his words of comfort whispered in her ear, even his lips against her skin.

"Oh, Goddess," she moaned, crawling into his bed and burying herself in the covers for another good cry.

xXx

Hers was the first scent that he found upon reaching the mansion. Quickly, he parked the motorcycle in the garage and followed the smell of her sadness. To his immense confusion, it led him straight to his bedroom. He called to her as he stepped into the room, and was answered with a gasp.

"Logan?" she asked, looking up into the doorway.

"Ororo, what are you…?" S

She sprang up from the bed, launching herself into his arms and clinging to him.

"You weren't here," she sobbed into his chest, "I had another nightmare. It's been happening to me all week, and I wanted to come to you, I wanted to so badly, Logan, but I couldn't. I hurt you, and I didn't want to bring my problems to you after what I did. I just couldn't help it anymore; I…I…need you."

"Oh, jeez, Ororo," he took all of her speech in, "I thought that I was the one who hurt you. I thought you didn't want anything to do with me." He placed one hand under her chin and turned her face up so that he could look into her eyes.

"You never did a thing wrong. I led you to believe that I could handle anything, and it turned out that I couldn't. I enjoyed the kiss at first; it was perfect. And then my mind took me back to that night, and it was no longer you touching me. It was _him_, and I couldn't stop myself; I just panicked," she told him.

"I understand," he whispered to her, his words falling softly upon her ears. She lifted a hand to where his rested on her cheek, and pulled his hand away, bringing it to her lips.

"I knew that you would," Ororo threaded her fingers through his, "That's why I feel safe with you. No matter what happens now, I know that you'll understand and you'll be able to help me. I want to try it again, Logan."

"Try what again?" he asked. She stood on the very tips of her toes so that her lips could catch his. When he returned the kiss this time, it was all him, and no one else.

"I want to finish what we started in the cemetery. I want to feel you, to touch you…I want you to make love to me."

Suddenly, he pulled away from her, holding her at arm's length and staring at her as though she were mad.

"You want…what?" he inquired. Her lips began to tremble and her eyes brimmed over with pain.

"Oh, no, don't get upset," he attempted to calm her down, going to her and placing his hands on her shoulders, "I'm sorry; I'm only thinking of you. Trust me; the last thing that you can handle right now is…that."

"How do you know what I can and cannot handle?" she demanded, swatting his hands away and turning to leave. He grabbed her and spun her around, holding her to where she stood. Her eyes went wide, she began to breathe heavily and irratically and Logan knew that his harsh treatment of her had caused her to remember things that would be better if forgotten.

Not knowing what else to do, he let go of her, hoping that she'd stay to hear him out. She took a step backwards, almost falling to the floor, but steadying herself at the last moment. A shiver ran down her spine, and she wrapped both of her arms around her body to stop it, but she didn't move. The look on her face was questioning, and fearful at the same time, as though she needed some kind of explanation from him but was frightened of what he might say.

"Listen to me, Ororo. When I get…excited, the animal in me takes over. I can't stop myself; it's all just instinct. Believe me, there's nothing that I want more right now than to have you, but I don't want to reach a point where you need me to stop and I can't. It would only end up hurting both of us."

He advanced on her slowly, his arms open to her, and she took the opportunity to fling her arms around him. Logan had hurt her, yes, but the need to be close to him still burned inside of her, and she didn't want to let him go.

"You can't just try?" Ororo asked, "Please, you have to, for me…for us. I have to do this, face my fears, or else I'll never get over it. I don't want to play this…this game, where sometimes you can touch me and sometimes you can't. I want to be able to give myself to you completely."

He shook his head and stroked her back, his heart breaking as she began to weep once more.

"Please," she whispered, "Oh, Goddess, _please_."

Logan's love and his sheer desire for her won out over his sense of rationality. His put his hands under her body and lifted her off of the floor, carrying her like a bride, as gently as he had the night that he'd found her bloody and defeated on the kitchen floor. He placed her on his bed and crawled on top of her, planting a kiss on her forehead, then both of her cheeks.

"I can't watch you crying," he told her, "I can't see you needing something and deny you. I just hope that we both don't end up regretting this."

She cupped his face in both of her hands and kissed his lips, whispering, "I never will."

"We're going to take this slow, Ororo. We're not gonna get too excited, too fast. Maybe if we do it that way, I can keep control."

"All right," she agreed, reveling in the feeling of his lips on her neck and all of the sensations that he was stirring up inside of her. She slipped her hands underneath his white wife beater and began to pull it over his head, exposing his strong chest to her. Distant thunder began to rumble outside as the weather witch was slowly undressed by her feral lover, who unclasped her bra and brought his mouth down upon her sensitive, milk-chocolate nipples.

While his tongue worked its magic on her breasts, Logan's hands slid down her body to remove her panties and stroke the neatly trimmed patch of white hair between her legs. She gasped and moaned his name as his fingers invaded her, finding and stroking her throbbing bud of pleasure simultaneously. A blush of passion stole over her entire form as he worked to please her, and, all too soon, she was panting and grinding against his hand as her climax hit her.

He ran his fingers through her hair as she came down, pressing her cheek to his chest and breathing heavily. Each breath of hers that fell upon his skin only excited him more, and it was, perhaps, the greatest challenge of his life to maintain control over his libido.

"Logan," she said, out of breath, "Please, give me more."

"Are you sure?" he asked, "Sure that you're ready?"

"Yes…yes…" Ororo shut her eyes in preparation as he moved in closer. He made sure to enter her gently, but still, she gasped.

"Whoa, you all right?" the concern was obvious in his voice.

"Maybe," she squeezed her eyes tightly together and braced her palms against his shoulders.

"I can…" he began, but she shook her head and looked at him, focusing on his face, particularly his eyes.

"No," she said, "Do it, just keep your eyes on mine. As long as I can see your eyes, I'll know that it's you."

"OK," he agreed, kissing her cheek and moving softly out of her before bringing his hips down to crash against hers. Ororo clung to him, her arms wrapped tightly around his body, and, all the while, she gazed at him. The only time his eyes left hers was when he moved his lips to her ear to whisper words of genuine affection and comfort, or to hers to offer a kiss.

"Thank you," she said, wrapping her legs around his waist as she felt his excitement, and her own, mounting. He could say nothing in return; the most he could give her was a grunt of pleasure.

"Ororo," he moaned at last, "I'm gonna…I'm about to…"

"Yes," she said, "I know." Her kisses stifled his grunts and moans as he flooded into her, his hips bucking fiercely against her.

Afterwards, they lay together, his head resting on her chest while he listened intently to the soft, even rhythm of every breath that she took.

"Logan, that was the most beautiful thing that anyone has ever done for me," she told him, running one hand through his sweat-dampened hair.

"I'm just glad that you got through it all right. How was it for you?" he asked. Ororo hesitated before she spoke again.

"At first, wonderful. And then terrifying. After that, it was just a mixture of the two. Perhaps next time, it can just be wonderful, without all of the fear," she said.

"I hope so," Logan said. She nodded and yawned.

"Hold me," she requested, "Don't let me go. I want to sleep with you, just like this." He nodded and stroked her hair and her back, comforting her into sleep as he had in the past, and as he would many times to come. When her breaths at last became shallow and even, he ran his index finger over her cheek and pulled her body closer to him.

"I love you, Ororo," he whispered into her ear, "and I always will."

With that said, Logan was finally able to join her in slumber.


	6. I want you forever

**Author's Note: Short chapter, yes, but I thought it a fitting ending. Hope you agree and enjoy it.**

xXx

He found her, as always, in her office, rifling through a stack of bills that needed to be paid, the most notable of which was the bill owed to the air conditioning repair shop. The song "Total Eclipse of the Heart" was playing on the boom box that sat right next to her computer, and Ororo was humming along.

"Never did like that song," Logan said, making her jump as he approached the desk, "Always thought that Bonnie Tyler needed a throat lozenge."

"Goddess, Logan, don't sneak up on me like that," she requested as she pressed the button that skipped the CD to the next track. The Rolling Stones' "Beast of Burden" filled the room.

"All I want…is for you make love to me," he sang as he pulled her up from her chair and into his arms. She giggled and her eyes smiled into his.

"Now's not a good time, I'm sorry to say," she joked, taking his hand in hers and giving it a squeeze.

"Really? Well, would you have the time to just listen to me?" he asked, "I've got something that I need to tell you."

She pulled away from him with a look of horror. "What is it?"

"Now why do you have to be such a pessimist? I didn't say it was anything bad."

"I'm sorry," Ororo apologized, "I just…have a hard time looking on the bright side of things lately, as you can imagine."

"Yeah, I know," he replied regretfully, "I wish it didn't have to be that way for you, or for either of us, but you're the only person in the world that I trust."

"And I trust you with my life," she wrapped her arms around his middle and buried her face in his chest.

"Do you trust me with your heart?" asked Logan.

"What?" she looked up him.

"You heard me. I've wanted to tell you for so long, but I didn't know how you'd take it…until now. I love you, Ororo. But can you bring yourself to give your heart to me?"

Without hesitation, she nodded.

"You've had it for years; since the first time that I met you."

"I wouldn't have known," he admitted.

"Yes. I purposely made it that way, because I knew that I wasn't what you wanted. You wanted Jean, and only Jean," for the first time, she was able to say the words that had been inside of her for years. He grimaced as he thought of all of the times he'd chased after Jean and ignored the woman who was now in his arms, never stopping to realize that she, too, had emotions and desires.

"I don't deserve you," he whispered to himself. When he realized that he'd said this aloud, he leaned down to kiss Ororo's mouth. "You're amazing, you know, to give yourself to someone like me…especially after how I treated you."

"No. No, I'm not amazing. I was infatuated, back then, and, when you found me that night, I was broken. You were the first person that I had to reach out to. I gave myself to you because it was what I had always wanted, and along the way I realized that I needed you. I still do."

"I need you, too," he admitted, "more than I've ever needed anything else. And I want you…I want you forever."


End file.
